


the one i'll slay; the other slayeth me

by thishasbeencary



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Humor, Ice show, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Self-cest, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 22:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thishasbeencary/pseuds/thishasbeencary
Summary: When he moves to America, Yuuri auditions to be part of an on-ice production of Midsummer Night's Dream. He finds out that the show stars Viktor Nikiforov, and is shocked, excited and scared by that, because Viktor is his long time crush and idol. It doesn't just end there, though, because it seems the magic isn't just within the show, and there isn't just one Viktor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> have we all seen [this](https://yoyoplisetsky.tumblr.com/post/161777547587/sunyshore-cover-of-%E5%AD%A3%E5%88%8A%E3%82%A8%E3%82%B9-stunning) official art? i'm dying. we need more fic like it. so, here. have the au where viktor timetravels to the past from the future and meets 18 year old yuuri. lots of fun.  
> lots of viktor ;)  
> viktor with long hair ;)  
> and flower crowns ;)  
> and ice skating ;)  
> and completely pure baby yuri <3
> 
> "why the title?" well, a) it's from midsummer, b) someone (coughnuricough) described sex scenes as action with genitalia, and c) SLAY ME
> 
> come check out my blog! it's at [yoyoplisetsky](https://yoyoplisetsky.tumblr.com/) and i'm always accepting prompts and friends.

“It would be fun, Yuuri!” Mari laughed, ruffling her brother’s hair, while Yuuri scowled up at her, trying to finish his homework. “And you said there were some Russians coming for it, right? Who’s to say your crush won’t be in it?” She teased.

Yuuri’s face lit up red, closing his English book and looking up to his sister with a sigh. “Saying that I could skate in an ice show with Viktor Nikiforov isn’t exactly convincing me to do it, Mari. I’d make a fool of myself, and if Viktor’s doing it, everyone from all edges of the universe will show up trying to get in. They wouldn’t take someone like me,” The eighteen-year-old muttered.

“Yuuri,” Mari immediately scolded, and Yuuri pressed his head into the table, because apparently he was going to get the _speech_. The one where Mari told him, “Stop underestimating yourself. Or do you want me to go get Mom to open up your trophy cabinet and tell the stories of all of them?”

And Yuuri responded, “They’re from Juniors, and most of them in-country competitions, Mari. It doesn’t count.”

“Alright, I’m getting Mom.” Mari stood up and Yuuri tugged her back down in a panic, shaking his head. Their mom would definitely go through every embarrassing story of his medals, and then probably end talking about how proud she was that he was moving to America soon.

Right. America. Where this stupid audition would be. “I’ve never done an ice show before, Mari. And, besides, I’m getting a new coach when I go to America, would his first impression of me really be good to see me in an ice show, mostly just for the potential chance of meeting Viktor Nikiforov?”

Which was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Mari grabbed his phone and started flipping through his contacts. “Your coach is named Celestino, right?” She asked, and Yuuri grabbed for his phone, but it was too late.

“Mari!” He whined, but he didn’t care enough to _really_ stop her. Celestino had talked to their family a few times, and Yuuri saw with relief that she’d turned it on a video call so he could also see and hear what they were talking about. He sighed, fixing his glasses and waiting for his new-coach to pick up.

“Ciao ciao!” He greeted as soon as he answered, and Mari smiled at him.

“Hello, Mr. Cialdini,” Mari greeted, and Yuuri waved shyly from her side. “Yuuri and I were just looking up opportunities for when he got to America – “

“Mari was forcing me to look at auditions for – “

“And we saw that there was an ice show coming to Detroit that needed some parts filled in by local skaters! The auditions are in a week, so he’ll have been settled in for a few days by then, and apparently the travelling cast stars Viktor Nikiforov right now, which is a big deal, as I know, because my brother is obsessed with him – “

“Mari!” Yuuri hissed, covering his face as he felt his cheeks light up. It wasn’t like he was the only skater in the universe who had a crush on Viktor Nikiforov, but Yuuri’s was gigantic and embarrassing. He’d probably faint if he really met Viktor.

“You want to be in an ice show in America?” Celestino picked out of their argument.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say _want,_ but – “ Mari put her hand over Yuuri’s mouth, leaning forward to smile into the camera of his phone.

“Yes, he does, and he was worried that you thought it might not approve of it because he thought it might interrupt with his training, since he hasn’t even started training under you yet,” Mari explained, not bothering to let Yuuri talk, which Yuuri rolled his eyes at. He wasn’t going to stop her. It… well, it _could_ be fun to be in an ice show. He’d never done it before, and if Viktor _was_ in it…

“What show is it? Are auditions in enough time that he’ll actually be rested? He’s coming in on the off season, and as long as the show doesn’t last for too long, it would be a good way for him to see America before he settles in in Detroit,” Celestino said, and Yuuri stared at the camera, because that sounded like a decision.

It sounded like it was decided that he was going to audition for an American ice show. He smiled awkwardly, nodding to the camera. “It’s for Midsummer Night’s Dream?” He said, finally talking instead of his sister.

“Midsummer? Oh! The auditions for that are in Detroit, aren’t they? Coach Feltsman is bringing a few of his time. A younger one, Plisetsky, and he’s trying to get Nikiforov, too. And I think Giacometti agreed last week as well. I’ll send Feltsman and the director your audition tapes, so they’re ready for you when you come in,” Celestino said, and Yuuri choked a little.

“Perfect! I’m glad you’ll help him out. Let him have this, he needs to get out and see the world before he hides himself between his room and the rink,” Mari said, her eyes on Yuuri, a small glare on her face.

“I… Thank you, Celestino,” Yuuri gave in, his heart pounding, because he might be in an ice show with Viktor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti. He was closer to Chris, because they’d been in juniors together up until the last few years, but Viktor? Viktor was Yuuri’s idol, and he couldn’t imagine skating on the same ice as him, even in this context.

“It’s not a problem!” Celestino said excitedly, already typing something out on his laptop. “I’ll see you next week, Yuuri! Good luck with the rest of your packing.”

“Goodbye, Celestino, thank you!” Mari smiled, pressing the off button before grinning at Yuuri. “Hear that, little brother? You’re going to be in an ice show with Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Maybe,” Yuuri muttered under his breath, and Mari glared at him, shaking her head.

“You asked for it,” She said in a warning tone, and Yuuri’s eyes grew wide.

“Mari, no – “ But it was too late, his sister wasn’t going to be stopped now.

“Mom! Yuuri’s forgotten all about how good he is at skating and needs at least a three hour reminder!” She shouted, and Yuuri could immediately hear his mother moving about, and the clanking of the trophy cabinet being opened and closed.

The rant about how talented he was and how many medals he had won did, in fact, last for nearly here hours. And it ended with Yuuri sighing, “No, Mom, I don’t need to bring my medals to America with me.” And, “Yes, Mom, I’ll win new ones so I don’t miss them.”

It seemed he was packed and out of the hot springs in no time which was terrifying. Celestino had apparently sent the tapes Yuuri had been sending his new coach to the people who were putting on Midsummer Night’s Dream, and they wanted him for an official audition a day after he moved in, and Yuuri was regretting ever letting Mari read over his shoulder.

He slept for most of the plane ride (mostly because he basically hadn’t slept three nights before that), and Celestino picked him up in the airport, driving him to his apartment while talking excitedly about what was coming up in the next few days, and how Yuuri’s car that he’d bought (and gotten an American license for) was already at his apartment complex. That apparently he was alone for now, but someone else may move in in a few months or a year, if Celestino took on another student.

Yuuri felt awful, but he fell asleep in the carried too, in the middle of Celestino talking. He didn’t seem to care, and woke Yuuri when they arrived at the apartment complex, helping him bring the little bit of luggage that he had so far into the room and then waving to him. “I’ll pick you up in two days for your audition. The rink’s walking distance, but I want to make sure you get there in time. Take a day to settle!”

A day to settle had Yuuri dancing around his apartment, trying to memorize his skates without the ice, even though he knew that he’d be fine. If they wanted him from whatever Celestino had, he’d be fine. Probably.

Celestino picked him up early the morning of his audition and Yuuri walked into the rink, his breathing seizing up immediately because… yeah, okay. There was Viktor Nikiforov. Play it cool, play it cool. His smile was too toothy, and he couldn’t make eye contact, but at least he managed to get his skates on without cutting himself.

“Are you auditioning?” Viktor skated over, his long hair a rush behind him, and Yuuri kept his eyes firmly on his skates, trying so hard to ignore the fact that he was about to talk to Viktor Nikiforov.

“Yes,” Yuuri admitted softly, looking up, and Viktor was smiling, offering him a hand, so Yuuri, of course, blurted out, “I’d love to be in you! I mean – your show. I’d love to be in your show. I’m sorry, I just moved here, and I’m – “

“Nervous? Learning English?” Viktor suggested, and Yuuri shrugged at both, because he knew English better than some of the Americans he’d met, even if not the vocabulary. “You’ll be fine! Come meet the rest!” Viktor let him get onto the ice before dragging him forward.

A small blonde boy that Yuuri didn’t recognize at all was spinning around, and Viktor stopped in front of him, laughing. “Yura! Come meet Yuuri!”

The boy stopped, huffed, and eyed Yuuri in annoyance. “Took my name. Don’t like.” He said simply, turning his head away from Yuuri and skating away.

Yuuri blinked. “That was Yuri Plisetsky. Don’t mind him, he’s always been like that. But Yakov thinks he’ll be a good skater when he’s older, and it’s true. Very good already.” Viktor nodded in the direction of Yuri, who was back to practicing an admittedly difficult step sequence for someone his age.

“Chris!” He shouted next, and Christophe Giacometti grinned at the two of them, stopping immediately.

“You didn’t tell me Yuuri would be in your show, Vitka,” Chris purred, winking at his friend and grinning at Yuuri, who shyly waved back.

“Well, I haven’t auditioned – “

“You know Yuuri?” Viktor stared between the two of them, as if in genuine shock (and a little upset) that he wasn’t the first one to meet Yuuri.

“We’ve competed. He’s talented, Vitya. Watch out for this boy in seniors.” Chris winked, and Yuuri blushed, shrugging.

“I mean, I guess, but you still beat me – “

“Not every time. Watch out, Vitya,” Chris warned, laughing. Yakov shouted for him then, and Chris sighed. “We’ll have to catch up later, Yuuri. Bye, Vitya!” He skated away, and Yuuri watched him go, left alone with Viktor.

“That’s everyone you need to meet for now, I guess. We’ve got another main role, but you can’t meet him yet. Probably will before you leave today? Maybe tomorrow, I don’t know yet,” Viktor said thoughtfully, and Yuuri nodded slowly, wondering who it could be.

“Shouldn’t I… audition?” Yuuri said hesitantly, and Viktor answered by _laughing_.

“I saw your videos! You’re good, you skate with passion, it’s important. I want you in the show, so you are!” He smiled, and Yakov then shouted his name, and Viktor winced. “I have to go. Talk later?” He hugged Yuuri tight before skating off to Yakov.

Yuuri was called over by another of the producers to learn a few of the moves for the show, so he was quickly lost in his own skating, glad to be distracted from the fact that Viktor Nikiforov was very tactile and wanted _him_ in what was apparently _his_ ice show, and so Yuuri was in it. He skated carefully for the person watching, and was one of the last few on the ice in the end.

He took his time getting off of the ice, sitting down on one of the benches and unlacing his skates, carefully setting them into his bag before walking back to the locker room to take a quick shower. He was already the last one in there, probably. Yuri Plisetsky had gone home with Yakov, and the rest of the skaters were old enough to live on their own.

Yuuri made it into the locker room and then froze in his steps, because –

There was Viktor Nikiforov, his long hair free and hands tangled in it, locked in an embrace with someone else, clearly much too distracted to notice Yuuri walk into the room. Yuuri wanted to tear his eyes away, but he couldn’t, because Viktor was moaning, and Yuuri suddenly realized that the other man had his hand between Viktor’s legs, inside of Viktor’s pants, and Yuuri covered his mouth with his hands to block any noises that he might make.

He could do this. He could leave Viktor to his heavy petting backstage of the ice show and he could go find someone else to talk to. Not that he was planning on talking to Viktor, he had just – come back here to get his bag. Who needed a bag? He had an extra phone charger in his apartment. He had to leave.

Viktor moaned louder, and Yuuri looked up only long enough to see him drag his hands down the other man’s body and directly into his pants, and yuuri wished desperately that the other man was more visible to him, because who had Viktor Nikiforov looking so incredibly disheveled?

He had to leave. He had to get out of there, he couldn’t watch this. If he watched this, something embarrassing was going to happen, and he really couldn’t meet Viktor Nikiforov (again) with a boner. That would be a terrible way to (re)introduce yourself to your long-time crush and idol in your sport and career.

Yuuri started to walk out before he froze, because Viktor was moving, and he realized that he could see the person behind him. Yuuri’s breathing stop as he stared, trying to make sense of the situation that was in front of him, because the person making out with Viktor Nikiforov was looking at him, and a wide grin broke out on his confusingly familiar face. This couldn’t be real.

“Yuuri!” The person who wasn’t Viktor shouted, and Viktor looked up in confusion, licking his lips and looking over at Yuuri with wide eyes. Why did he know his name? That was even worse, that was _even worse_. Yuuri didn’t even know what to do, and he just took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes and counting down, doing everything he could quickly to try to calm his anxiety before he opened his eyes again, starting to walk, but –

Yuuri froze in his spot, looking at the two of them in complete and total horror.

He had just walked in on Viktor Nikiforov.

Making out with Viktor Nikiforov.

Worse, no. He had just walked in on Viktor Nikiforov with his hands down Viktor Nikiforov’s pants while they moaned and rubbed against each other.

“Yuuri! Yay! I’m glad you’re here! I haven’t seen you in so long!” The Viktor with short hair jumped away from the other Viktor and ran up to Yuuri, wrapping his arms around him and spinning him around in a circle.

“I – “ Yuuri couldn’t find words, he couldn’t find anything but his growing confusion, because the Viktor with short hair knew who he was already, even though he had met Viktor Nikiforov for the first time a day ago. He seemed _familiar_ with Yuuri.

“We just met,” The younger Viktor voiced Yuuri’s confusion, and Viktor blinked in surprise before nodding, letting him go.

“I know! But my Yuuri, it’s been _weeks_ , Vitka. You know that. I told you that, remember?” Viktor with short hair looked upset, and Yuuri really wanted to flee to his apartment and sleep off whatever was happening to him, because this _wasn’t real_.

“Oh, right.” Viktor squinted at Yuuri carefully before nodding his head, shrugging. “Well, Yuuri is going to be in the show now, I need to pick a part for him. So we won’t be missing him much longer!” He said excitedly.

Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder why on earth Viktor with short hair would miss him. Were they friends, in whatever alternate reality he’d come from? Cleary, they were close, if Viktor was this comfortable with him.

“Really?” Viktor with short hair’s eyes lit up excitedly, looking at Yuuri.

“I’m… Yes. I’m in the show. I guess. That’s what Viktor said?” His voice felt like it was simply a squeak, and it was probably a miracle that he was able to stay standing in a room with two of them.

Viktor with short hair grinned at Yuuri, licking his lips as he wrapped Yuuri and his younger self in a tight hug. “I’m so excited for the show!” He exclaimed.

Yuuri would be too, if he didn’t feel like he was going to pass out.

Why the hell were there two Viktor Nikiforovs?

Why had they been making out and feeling each other up?

Why… why did they stop for Yuuri?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The (ice) show must go on! 
> 
> Yuuri overhears Viktor and Vitka talking about something and then gets an invitation he can't say no to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am legitimately so sorry for disappearing for literally over a year i ,,, got really busy and still am but i really want to complete this fic and i still love the idea i've just been exhausted and busy. i'm a senior this year in college and if you follow my other fics you know i'm super slow with updating rn. i'm trying to write when i can but i'm a double major and doing two senior projects rn and it's draining. it's not the excuse for the full year but ,,, i do want this fic to be completed, i promise promise promise it's not abandoned.
> 
> so thank you if you're still reading!

The two Viktors lead him from the rink after that, leaning on each other and talking loudly about the ice show. Yuuri tried to participate in their conversation, but he couldn’t stop staring. They both looked unbelievably excited that he was there, and he couldn’t quite get over the shock of walking in on Viktor Nikiforov making out with himself.

By the time that they got to their cars, the younger Viktor had demanded that Yuuri just call him Vitka to make it easier. The older didn’t request a nickname but looked at the two of them longingly when Vitka introduced the conversation. Yuuri tried to ask him if he wanted him to call him something else, but Viktor only shook his head, insisting that his name was fine.

Vitka had looked at him strangely but shrugged his shoulders, waving at Yuuri as the two piled into the car.

Yuuri walked the rest of the way to his apartment alone, confused.

He tried very hard not to think about it for the rest of the night, knowing that it would only be a cause of confusion and anxiety. Instead, he poured all of his effort into getting his room setup the rest of the way and calling his sister, giving a quick rundown of his day, even if not mentioning the fact that there were two Viktors with him. He was pretty sure that that one wasn’t going to be believed.

Sleep that night was not easy. Every time that Yuuri closed his eyes, his brain immediately went to thoughts of Viktor and Vitka, and what they had been doing before he had walked in, and what they would have done if he hadn’t.

Yuuri didn’t know if he was going to survive this ice show.

But it was an amazing opportunity, so he ran to the rink the next morning, giving himself plenty of time to warm up as the rest of the skaters started to arrive.

Most of them just greeted him quickly as they came in, otherwise ignoring him and letting him do his own thing. Yuuri was _very_ okay with that, keeping to himself and running through his own thoughts and letting himself get through his workout. Vitka walked in after a while and smiled brightly at him. Yuuri looked up and was relieved to see that he was alone. Maybe he had imagined it all. He was exhausted after practice, and he just happened to imagine that there were two Viktor Nikiforovs making out in the locker room. It wouldn’t have been the weirdest fantasy his brain came up with.

But, no. A little while after Vitka, a tall man walked in, and Yuuri could recognize that face anywhere, even underneath a beanie and a pair of glasses. He immediately walked to the same room that Vitka had and Yuuri sucked in a deep breath. Okay. So. They were both real.

He finished his warmup just in time, called onto the ice. They ran through multiple parts of the show, testing out choreography. Vitka was changing it on the fly, working with Yakov to create something that flowed well and made sure to test some of the limits of the impressive skaters that they had flown in for this show.

Next to the group of people he was skating with, Yuuri felt like he’d never been on the ice before. They were effortlessly pulling off their jumps, their step sequences cleaner than anything he’d seen. Even Yuri, the youngest of them, pulled off things far beyond his age. Yuuri was… well… average, compared to the rest of them. He tried to keep to himself, not understanding how he’d even been allowed into this show.

Finally, when practice was over, Yuuri stepped off of the ice, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He had pretty good stamina when it came to how long he could be on the ice, but it was nothing compared to what they were doing here. The show wasn’t even particularly grueling, especially compared to some of the programs that he had done competitively. But he had to push himself hard, to keep up with the rest of the skaters. This was his first season with a new coach, and he wanted to make it count.

He walked to the locker room first but paused when he opened the door.

Oh, god, Viktor and Vitka were alone again.

At least this time, they were a little further apart. They weren’t in each other’s lap, even if Vitka was pressed right up against Viktor’s body. Viktor had his fingers in Vitka’s hair, pulling out the tangles with a brush gently. They were talking softly and Yuuri walked past them, heading to the bathroom first. Maybe they’d be done with… whatever they were doing by the time that Yuuri had finished.

He went to the showers to cool down, relaxing as the water beat down against him. He took his time, letting most of the other skaters go before him, trying to relax before he headed home. He was so out of his league.

Yuuri spent as long as he possibly could in the showers, finally pulling himself out of the room and heading in the direction of the locker room. He just had to get his bag and leave. He could get dinner and then run back to his room and stay there the rest of the night until his next practice. It would be fine.

As he walked up to the locker room, he heard muted voices and sighed. Viktor and Vitka were still in there. He couldn’t turn around. Maybe they were talking about something simple, like dinner, and Yuuri could just run in real quickly and grab his bag and then leave. That would be ideal. That was absolutely the most ideal way that this situation could go.

So of course that was exactly the opposite of what was happening.

Because he walked up to the room and the first thing that he heard was his own name.

Yuuri stopped, dropping his hand, not even thinking of knocking. He took a few steps back, considering fleeing. Did he really need his gear bag? He was pretty sure that his apartment key was in his wallet, and he had that, he could just claim that he forgot it, new rink and all, and –

“I still can’t believe no one told me that you had _Yuuri_ coming here,” Viktor sounded annoyed and Yuuri froze. Every insecurity he’d ever had about himself, about his skating, all of them were rising to the surface, choking him from thinking about anything else. Viktor sounded _angry_. He sounded like he didn’t want Yuuri there, like Vitka had made some sort of mistake, like he’d _leave_ if Yuuri didn’t.

Yuuri felt tears pricking in his eyes and stood frozen, his hand on the door. Maybe he _should_ leave them alone. He needed to get his bag, they probably didn’t even know that he was still there. Most of the other skaters had left so long ago. Yuuri wiped at the tears with his sleeve, waiting for Vitka to respond.

“I didn’t know you knew him! He’s new to Seniors, how was I supposed to know? You looked like you were excited to see him!” Vitka answered, and Yuuri slipped to the edge so he could see into the room, knowing they couldn’t see him.

“I _am_ , but I would have liked some warning,” Viktor said. “It’s not like he’s new to skating when I’m from!” Viktor breathed out slowly, sinking down into his seat. Viktor was… excited for him to be there?

“I’m sorry,” Vitka mumbled. “Are you friends or something? You know I don’t want to hurt you, that’s why I told you about Chris.” Vitka sounded genuine, and Yuuri was so confused. Why was him being there such a big deal? He couldn’t possibly know Viktor Nikiforov well enough for it to be a big deal, no matter what kind of future he came from. Something weird was going on, and Yuuri couldn’t possibly figure out what it was, no matter how hard he tried.

_Viktor Nikiforov_ wanted him there, so badly that he was upset about not being told he was coming in advance. It didn’t make _sense_. He said that he was excited, so it wasn’t even like Yuuri had somehow accidentally embarrassed himself or managed to make Viktor hate him. Viktor _wanted_ him there, for some incomprehensible reason.

“Vitka, you don’t understand,” Viktor was whispering, expertly braiding his younger self’s hair behind his head, clipping it back with bright sparkling pins. “That’s _him_. Yuuri, that’s who I keep talking about.”

“Yuuri is your – “ Viktor threw a hand over Vitka’s mouth, his eyes wide, presumably because of how loud he had spoken. Once he removed his hand, Vitka continued, “but I thought you said that you hadn’t _talked_ to him yet!”

“I… I haven’t, not really! Technically, we talked when we were in Sochi, but I haven’t seen him since then, but now I’m here and _he’s_ here, and there’s gotta be a good reason for that!” Viktor answered, looking over his shoulder and sighing. Yuuri kept a hand over his mouth, trying to think. Why would he and Viktor have been in Sochi together? Why would Viktor want to talk to him so much?

“Then you should talk to him! He’s here, and you’re clearly obsessed with him,” Vitka answered him, crossing his arms over his chest. He was glaring, too, but ahead of himself, probably not wanting Viktor to mess up his hair.

“Stop talking so loudly,” Viktor whined. “I don’t want him to hear. But, yes. It’s Yuuri. It’s _always_ been Yuuri. Maybe he can get me back.” Viktor finished the braid, pulling his hands away to admire his handiwork. He ran a hand through his own hair, and Yuuri took a second to admire just how gorgeous Viktor’s hair was short. Of course the shining lengths he was used to were gorgeous, but Viktor’s short hair made him look entirely different. Elegant, and handsome, in a much more masculine way than Viktor had ever tried to pull off before.

Yuuri was breathless looking at the two standing so close together. Talking about… _him._

“Do you have to go back?” Vitka was whining, throwing his arms around Viktor’s neck and burying his face against his shoulder there. “It’s so fun having you here! And you’re such a good addition for the show,” he sighed, kissing at Viktor’s neck. “It’s not this easy to get along with anyone else,” he added, looking down to the ground, away from where Viktor could see.

Viktor gently held Vitka’s chin, tilting his head up so that they could meet their lips. “I need to get back, Vitka. I need to find him,” Viktor answered. “And I couldn’t skate in the show, anyway. The ISU would throw a fit if two of us appeared out on the ice. If I were here permanently, I’d need to compete, too. It’s better that I go back home, and… don’t.”

“Don’t?” Vitka asked, and Yuuri found himself wondering the same. “You’re not competing any more? Vitya, you’re still so good at skating! And you found Yuuri, you have to keep skating!” Vitka looked u at Viktor desperately, the kind of desperation no one else could have. Viktor’s future was _his_ future, and he was apparently contemplating having no future in skating. Had Yuuri done something to Viktor in the future that he wouldn’t be able to compete for some reason? He’d never forgive himself if he took Viktor away from the ice.

“I’ll choreograph your show while you’re here, Vitka. I don’t want to spoil your whole future. I just… don’t think I’m skating next season. I’m so _bored_ of skating. It’s always the same. I’m going to try something new,” Viktor explained. Yuuri gnawed on his lip, wondering if he should reveal himself. They had been talking for a while with no idea that he was there.

Vitka tore himself away from Viktor, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s no reason for you to quit.”

“You’ll understand, Vitka. I wish I could tell you, but I don’t want to skate. Keep skating now. I promise, it’ll keep being fun. I just… there’s something new I want to try.” What else could _Viktor Nikiforov_ possibly want to try? Something was taking him away from the ice, and Yuuri hated to know that. He wanted Viktor to skate forever, to continue to win medal after medal. He knew that meant that he would never win gold but…

He desperately wanted to skate on the same ice as Viktor. In _competition_ , as equals. Not because Viktor for some wild reason wanted him to be in his ice show.

“You just said you were bored of it!” Vitka snapped back, his long hair falling over his shoulder as he turned away from Viktor. “Why do you really want to go back? If there’s not skating, then is it just because of – “

Yuuri stepped into the locker room, careful to make sure that the door made plenty of noise behind him, so there would be no mistaking the sounds of someone entering. Both turned their heads toward the door and Vitka lit up, even though he still had a slightly angry demeanor behind the smile. Viktor was smiling a confusing smile, one that was saying much more than Yuuri could understand.

Yuuri swallowed. “I just… I was going to go get some dinner, before I go back to my apartment. Please don’t stop on account of me!” He rushed forward to grab his bag, holding it close to himself.

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmured, turning toward Yuuri with wide eyes, ignoring whatever Vitka had been about to say. All of his attention was focused on Yuuri, with a look in his eyes that Yuuri could only associate with… caring. And maybe… desire. “Do you want to come back with us? We could all eat together! Vitka was telling me some of the best places to eat.”

Yuuri’s breathing stopped for a second, taking in what was happening. Viktor Nikiforov was asking him to come back to his apartment. With another Viktor Nikiforov. And… well, he wasn’t sure what they were going to do at his apartment, but if what he’d walked in on was any indication…

“Um.” Vitka and Viktor had been fighting when he had walked in, after all. Did he want to go back with them and not let them continue whatever they had been talking about. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt. I heard you two talking before I walked in, so I don’t know if – “

“We’re done!” Vitka answered cheerily, though after eyeing Viktor. Whatever they had been talking about, they clearly weren’t finished. Yuuri didn’t want to get into the middle of that, though, not quite yet. “And I should really be going before Yakov yells at me. He hates when I stay this late at the rink.” It seemed like an excuse, but Yuuri breathed a little more easily with it.

“Vitka and I need to eat, after all!” Viktor added, grinning at Vitka before focusing back on Yuuri. “We can pick up takeout on the way there! There’s a great place nearby, and you probably haven’t had time to eat much here, since you just moved! We’ll treat you.” He stepped from where he was, slinging his bag of equipment over his shoulder and swiftly tucking most of his recognizable hair under a hat, grabbing a pair of glasses and sliding them on. Were they fake? A disguise? He did look much less like himself with no silver in sight and his eyes somewhat dimmed by the glass. He could pass as a cousin, maybe, or a brother.

Yuuri looked between the two of them and then slowly nodded. “Okay. Sure. Um.” He nodded, stepping forward. “Let’s go, I guess.”

Vitka grinned, grabbing Yuuri’s arm and holding on as he led them out of the rink, loudly and excitedly speaking in English. Viktor muttered something in Russian from behind them, and Vitka answered solemnly before diving back into whatever he had been saying in English.

It didn’t matter what language they were speaking in to Yuuri. All he heard was the voices of two Viktor Nikiforovs with whom he was going to eat dinner. At their apartment.

He didn’t let his mind quite yet wander to ‘what if’.

Such as: what if they didn’t just eat dinner while they were there…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully the next update takes less than a year i'm sorry. i also set a probable chapter count at 4? it's subject to change but i don't think it'll be much more than that.
> 
> my blog is [yoyoplisetsky!](http://yoyoplisetsky.tumblr.com/) follow for more yoi content! i'd love to talk to y'all.
> 
> kudos/comments/bookmarks are always appreciated. tell me what you think? <3

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments/bookmarks are always cherished greatly with me <3
> 
> also, tell me what you want to see!! my last fic with viktor/yuuri/viktor had quite a few suggestions i plan on integrating into this fic, so if you have something you're dying to see happen between viktor/yuuri/viktor, or some combination of them, you should tell me :)


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